


tenebrific

by ohpleaselarry



Category: CrankGameplays - Fandom, Crankiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Crying, Dark Mark, Depression, M/M, Sad, So much angst, but not darkiplier, i can’t tag more without spoiling it lol, not happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohpleaselarry/pseuds/ohpleaselarry
Summary: Two options...either Ethan’s going crazy, or Mark’s cheating on him.Now that he knows the third option, he wishes it were one of the first.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor, Markiplier/CrankGameplays
Comments: 26
Kudos: 255





	tenebrific

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory warning for sad bois and not happy ending. Don’t read if it will scar you for life.
> 
> *** = start of a flashback! 
> 
> I’m in a weird place mentally atm, and as usual it’s causing dark fics. At least I’m still writing lmao yall enjoy 💚

Keys jingling at the door startle Ethan awake. 

He sits up, throw blanket sliding off of his shoulders. The tv is playing reruns of Law & Order, it’s so late. It’s brash light illuminates the room enough for Ethan to glance towards the kitchen and see Mark trying to be quiet as he shrugs off his coat and shoes. 

Seeing that Ethan’s awake, he skips to a halt, face looking unabashedly guilty before he smooths it over into a small smile and steps up to the couch, bending down to press a kiss to his hair. 

“Hey, I thought you’d be sleeping.” He murmurs, reaching for the remote to turn the television off. Chica steps up to the man, tail wagging, offering him a stuffed toy. Mark turns to her and gives her a pat, like it’s all fine. Like this isn’t the fourth time this week. 

“You said you’d stop staying out so late.” Ethan says, stretching his drowsiness off, looking down at Mark’s hands combing through the dogs hair. His wedding ring glistens in the dim light of the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry. Alex wanted to try out a different leg routine. Sort of lost time.” Mark says, sounding rehearsed. Ethan rubs his eyes and stands up, tossing the blanket over the back of the couch and avoiding Mark’s eyes as he steps around him. 

“He sure has a lot of _new routines_ lately.” Ethan says bitterly, scoffing when Mark grabs his arm and spins him around. 

“Hey, please don’t be mad.” The man says, eyebrows furrowed, pulling him in like they’re going to dance, leaning in for a kiss. 

Ethan stops him, covering his lips with a finger, refusing to be seduced. 

“I’m tired. I’m even too tired to fight right now.” 

Mark doesn’t let go of him, swaying them to music that isn’t playing. His eyes are warm, begging. He hums the song they danced to on their wedding day, smile playing at his lips. 

“My funny valentine..” he starts to sing, voice just as spine chilling as it’s always been. Ethan refuses to smile, jaw clenching to maintain his angry expression. 

“Sweet comic valentine.” 

“Fuck off.” Ethan replies to the lyrics, unable to resist the smile as he remembers the day they married. Mark’s cheeks pink, his mothers’ crying as they danced, heart beating only for each other. 

“You make me smile, with my heart.” Mark croons, spinning them then dipping the boy. Ethan gasps, hands clutching Mark’s arms that are easily holding him up. He giggles despite his anger, and doesn’t object this time when Mark leans in for a kiss. 

Later, in bed, Ethan runs a finger down Mark’s sleeping face, his neck, and his chest. His anger is gone, replaced by a hollow feeling he can’t dismiss. While there’s no mysterious hickeys, no loss of interest on Mark’s side, and no evidence, Ethan can’t get the suspicion out of his head. 

If Mark isn’t cheating, has Ethan gone mad?

***

“We should play truth or dare.” 

“For unus annus?” Ethan replies, glancing up from where he’s editing on his laptop at his friend. 

The man nods, plopping on the couch next to him, mouth full of trail mix. 

“Yeah. With Twitter prompts, or Evan can put some together.” 

“Sounds like something that could go bad with one dirty dare.” Ethan says, raising an eyebrow in hesitation. Mark shrugs, tapping at his phone and shaking more trail mix into his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s the plan.” 

Ethan rolls his eyes, smiling. Mark’s a flirty fuck, but he’s used to it. It’s all jokes, and it’s hilarious on camera. The fans love it. 

-

Almond butter coating his hair and eyeliner messily drawn on his eyes, Ethan scrolls to the next tweet for his dare. His cheeks are still red from his last truth, where he had to recount his first orgasm. 

“Of course there’s one daring us to kiss.” He sighs, looking up at Mark, who’s got ‘I love penis’ written in sharpie across his chest, nipples red from the vibrating pumps, and a blindfold on for three rounds. He grins, eyebrows wiggling under his blindfold. 

“Looks like we gotta do it. First dare you read, remember?” 

Ethan rolls his eyes, continuing to scroll. 

“Ha ha, hilarious. We’ll cut this out, I found one daring me to wax—“

“No, no cheating!” Mark calls, pointing to the general direction of the camera in Evan’s hands like he’s a judge. 

“Think of the views.” Evan says with a shrug. Ethan scoffs, setting his phone down on the floor between them. 

“Okay, sure.” He says, crawling on his knees suggestively to Mark, stopping in front of him. The man seems to be waiting expectantly, facing up and holding still. 

Ethan touches two fingers to his chin so he’ll drop to his level, then he leans forward until he can smell the faint scent of Mark’s shampoo, then he leans away just before their lips can brush. 

“Transition!” He says, clapping. Mark suddenly reaches out blindly, hand landing on Ethan’s thigh. It trails sloppily up to his waist, then he pulls him closer. 

“No, no transitions. Kiss me.” Mark says. 

Ethan looks over to Evan, who just seems to be zooming with the camera. The boy laughs awkwardly, then reaches for Mark’s blindfold but hesitates, not sure what to do. He wants to see his eyes, see that he’s joking, but Mark’s holding onto his waist, stock still as he waits for a kiss. 

“Y-you’re serious? Don’t gaslight me, I can’t tell if you’re joking.” Ethan says, voice serious now. 

Mark swallows audibly, eyebrows furrowing, disappearing under his blindfold. 

“Not joking. C’mon, don’t be a pussy. It’s a dare.” 

Ethan looks at the camera nervously and hesitates. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. T-the shipper fans—“ 

Mark groans in impatience and rips off his blindfold, blinking a few times at the sudden light, before he leans in, hand cupping Ethan’s cheek, and presses their lips together. 

***

Ethan had later found out that Mark had asked his YouTube members to spam kissing dares so it would get into the video. It had been their first kiss, and they just sort of didn’t stop kissing after that. 

He smiles at the memory. It feels so distant, though it was only a mere two years ago. He misses unus annus, but he mainly misses Mark. He’s here, lying right next to him, but he feels so distant. 

Ethan doesn’t know why, but Mark’s changed, and he can’t get the feeling out of his head. 

He falls asleep with a heavy heart. 

-

“With three dead in one month, police have confirmed that this is likely the work of a serial killer, right here in Los An—“ 

“Hey, I’m headed out.” Mark says, stepping into the room. Ethan switches the news off and stands up, following him to the front door. 

“Stay home. Use the treadmill.” Ethan pleads. The man turns with a sigh, slipping on his shoes. 

“Ethan, c’mon, Alex and I—“

“Please.” Ethan murmurs, reaching out and pressing a finger to the crook of Mark’s elbow, where there’s a small ‘E’ tattoo’d there. 

Mark frowns, looking down at his ink. He pulls him in for a kiss, spinning them and gently pressing Ethan against the wall. They kiss for a bit. It’s been a hot minute since they fooled around, so Ethan pulls him impossibly closer, fingers fumbling for his belt. 

Mark steps away. 

Ethan can only watch him in disbelief. Mark looks like he’s confused, himself. He opens his mouth but no words come out. Ethan exhales shakily and steps away from the wall, starting towards their bedroom. 

“Wait, Ethan, I’m sorry. I’m just—please, don’t be mad.” Mark follows him to the room. Ethan bends over the bedside table and yanks out his charger, then he starts to pack a rucksack. Mark stops him, hands on his wrists. 

“Don’t leave, baby, don’t leave me.” He begs, eyes glossy, afraid. 

Ethan wipes his own tears away and shoves him so they aren’t touching, trying to breathe deeply so he doesn’t start to sob. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” 

“It’s not what you think, I swear. I swear on my life, I’m not cheating on you.” Mark literally falls to his knees begging, chin wobbling himself. 

Ethan stops, pair of jeans halfway shoved into the bag, and looks down at him. 

“What?” 

“I’ve never—I would never. I love you. Only you. I only have eyes for you.” Mark’s eyes are sincere, wet with his own tears. 

Ethan sits down on the bed in front of him, eyebrows furrowing. 

“I don’t understand. You’ve been so distant. You stay out so late and now you don’t want to touch me, but you aren’t cheating? Then what? It’s time to stop beating around the bush. Tell me what’s going on.” 

Mark takes a breath, running a hand through his hair. It’s a bit longer than usual. It looks nice, of course, and it’s wonderful to run his hands through, but he knows it annoys him, getting in his eyes all the time and whatnot. 

“I think I’m ill.” 

***

Ethan hears the front door open and he quickly wipes his tears away, but it’s a futile act. Mark immediately notices his puffy red eyes and carelessly drops the few bags of groceries on the counter, rushing to the couch. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks, wiping Ethan’s tears away. The boy opens his mouth to talk but he just makes a sad sound and keeps crying, handing Mark his phone rather than answering. 

He watches Mark scroll through the comments from their six month anniversary post. It doesn’t take him long to realise what made Ethan cry. He locks the phone and sets it on the coffee table, scooping him up to his chest, holding him. 

“I told you not to read those anymore. You knew there would be hate. We’ve talked about this. The one mean comment out of ten nice ones is going to get to you.” Mark murmurs, petting his hair. 

“They’re just so f-fucked. They say I’m only with you for the views. Or that you’re only with me out of pity. O-or—“

“Shh, Ethan. None of that matters. Hey, look at this one.” 

Ethan turns away from Mark’s chest and glances at the phone. It’s a long comment from a fan, thanking them for helping her believe in love again after she got out of a toxic relationship. Saying that their videos inspired her to try out goat yoga, where she met her now fiancé. 

Ethan exhales shakily and smiles, reaching a finger out to like the comment. Mark closes the phone again and presses a kiss to his forehead. 

“See, the real ones know us. You know how I feel about you. Those hateful comments are so dull in comparison.” 

Ethan lifts his head and wipes his tears away. Mark’s eyes are warm, familiar, loving. 

“I love you.”

***

“What do you mean ill?” Ethan asks, heart quickly beginning to race, the worst thoughts running through his mind. 

Mark stands from his knees and sits next to him, taking his hand. 

“It’s just a feeling, I guess. I’ve been getting headaches a lot. Dizzy, sometimes. Something feels wrong but I’m terrified to see a doctor and find out I’m right. I got distant because I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to scare you. I’d hoped it would pass.” 

Ethan feels like he might faint. He squeezes Mark’s hand. 

“We’ll go together, yeah? If something’s wrong we need to fix it.” 

Mark looks hesitant, but he nods. 

“Okay..okay.”

-

Settling into the drivers seat, Ethan turns on the heat, holding his hands together and blowing into them in hopes to warm up. 

Mark’s quiet, staring blankly out of the window at the cold rain, fingering the bandaid on the crook of his elbow where they took blood. 

“This is good, right? You’re healthy, you don’t have to pull away anymore.” Ethan says, pulling his wet beanie from his hair. 

“It’s almost worse..to know I made it all up. That it was all in my head.” Mark speaks just as quietly, voice strained, jaw clenched as he looks at his lap. 

“Everyone goes through anxiety at some point in their lives. You aren’t crazy.” Ethan reaches for him, taking his hand. Mark squeezes back, taking a deep breath. 

“I’m not crazy.” 

-

Ethan sits on the couch huddled in a blanket, watching Mark edit on his laptop. The man’s eyebrows are furrowed in focus, and he occasionally rubs at his eyes, tired. 

Ethan was pretending to be on his phone at first, but eventually just began to blatantly stare. It’s been a few days but nothing has changed. Mark’s still distant, which is leading Ethan to believe it’s not anxiety, or maybe he never even had it in the first place. 

He tries to blink the thoughts away but they won’t disappear. Mark’s not much of a liar. He’s always been an honest man. Kind. He goes through bouts of depression, sure, as does anyone who’s human. 

This is different. He’s almost..blank. Empty. Depression is emptiness, of course, but this is a different kind of empty. Angry empty. Vacant. 

“What is it.” Mark suddenly says, not asking a question, sounding almost annoyed. Ethan blinks out of his own thoughts, realising Mark’s caught him staring. 

“Sorry. Just watching. Am I distracting you?” Ethan asks, tilting his head like it’s a game. A challenge. 

Mark narrows his eyes and doesn’t respond, turning back to his laptop and continuing to edit. Ethan can hear the faint sounds of the video through the man’s headphones. 

He’s suddenly angry but unsure exactly why. The air is thick, stagnant. Like words are going unsaid. Like they’re on a ship, back and forth with no direction. No island to steer for. Ethan’s seasick. 

He stands, not bothering to fold the throw blanket. He tosses it carelessly onto the cushion and leaves the room. 

What happened to them?

***

“Extravagant.” Ethan comments, stepping into the house, looking up at the large chandelier in the foyer. 

Mark steps up behind him, setting down their bags, hands on Ethan’s waist and lips pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Mmm, wanted to go all out. Only have one chance to get a honeymoon.” 

Ethan grins, turning in his arms, wrapping his own around the man’s neck, playing with his soft hair, curling a bit in the humidity. 

“One in five marriages end in divorce, ya know.” Ethan says dramatically, eyes wide. Mark steps them back, then presses him down onto the bed. They share a kiss, passionate. Loving. Mark pulls back a few centimetres and strokes his cheek, eyes warm as a summers day. 

“Impossible. As if I could spend a single minute not loving you.” 

***

Ethan closes his eyes at the memory, fingers fiddling with his wedding band. He takes a deep breath but finds it hard to resist the prickling at his eyes. 

What went wrong? When did it all change? When did Mark start to pull away? 

-

Waking up, Ethan clears his throat, only causing himself to have a bit of a coughing fit. He touches his fingers to his neck and stands up from the bed, staggering a bit, barely noticing in his somnolent state the empty space in the sheets next to him. 

He doesn’t bother with the kitchen light, not daring to blind himself. The glass of water soothes his dry throat. Leaning heavily against the counter, he begins to wake a bit, especially when he can hear the familiar locking sound from Mark’s Tesla outside. 

The door opens and closes quietly, and the man steps lightly across the entryway, passing up the kitchen and not even noticing Ethan stood in the darkness. 

He’s walking weird. Hunched, arms clutching his gym bag like a baby, nearly tip toeing. 

Ethan stands silently against the counter until he hears the shower turn on down the hall. He sets the glass of water on the counter and spots something on the floor in the wake of his husbands trail. 

Upon further inspection, he finds it’s a liquid. Dark. Hard to see without the lights on. Just a single drop of it. Mud maybe? 

It had been raining a bit recently but there’s no mud up here. No mud at the indoor gym, either. Besides, wouldn’t there be more than a drop? Wouldn’t there be prints of it if it were on the man’s shoes?

Ethan stands up, curiosity getting the better of him, and flicks on the kitchen light. He squints in the harshness of it until his eyes adjust, then he bends back down to look once more at the spot of liquid. His eyebrows furrow, heart beginning to race as he realises what it is. 

Blood. 

***

“What do you think about kids?” 

Ethan lifts a finger to his mouth, tasting the cookie dough. Mark continues to mix, watching him expectantly. 

“They’re cool, I guess. Expensive.” He shrugs, rather distracted by wheel of fortune playing in the living room. 

“I mean, for us. Do you want any?” 

That catches his attention. He turns around, eyes wide. Mark’s cheeks are heating up, and he’s chewing on the inside of his lip. They’ve been together for a year, but Ethan never even considered the option. The man’s always said he doesn’t care to have kids. They’ve both said that in their own videos on a few occasions. 

“Do you?” Ethan asks, not meaning to sound so surprised but it comes out like that anyway. Mark just keeps mixing, shrugging. 

“I don’t know. I thought I didn’t but..mom asked me about the possibility of grandkids the other day and now I can’t stop thinking about it. I-I mean, if you don’t want any it’s fine. I just..” Mark sets down the mixer and sighs in what seems to be embarrassment. 

Ethan smiles and reaches for his hand, tracing the lines of his palm. 

“It’d be such an idiot. With us as parents.” 

“I know. Stupid idea. Forget I said any—“

“Let’s do it. Let’s have one.” 

Mark looks surprised, then just unbelievably happy. He carelessly abandons the cookies to round the corner and lift Ethan up into a hug, then spins him around the room. They laugh and laugh in happiness, excited for the future. The next big step. 

***

The adoption paperwork sits on the table in the garage, starting to collect dust. Ethan sits at the table looking at them. Bills, medical evaluations, credit information. All of the paperwork to turn in so they can be marked as fit parents. 

Step one of so so many, forgotten under dust bunnies. Carelessly tossed away as if it wasn’t their future. As if it was all just a game. Mark had been so excited. Then, he wasn’t. Then, he was going to the gym every night, too busy to check off boxes. Too tired to call agencies. Too sick. 

Ethan always thought he didn’t want kids. Now, he sits at the table in the garage and cries for the baby he now realises he wanted all along. 

-

“A seventh body was found today. LAPD are urging citizens to stay indoors at night. This serial killer, nicknamed the owl, hasn’t been seen by any witnesses, and could potentially be anyone. Unlike many serial killers, he doesn’t go for certain people, genders, or ages. Only one thing is certain, he’s only killed at night.”

Ethan mutes the news as Mark steps in from the hallway, preworkout in a bottle already as he takes an apple from the counter. 

“Don’t go.” Ethan says. It feels like it’s been forever since they talked. Really talked. As in, something more than ‘goodnight’ or ‘what should we order in tonight’. 

“Ethan.” Mark sighs exasperatedly, halting halfway towards the front door. 

“There’s a killer, you know. Specifically kills at nighttime. I want you to start going to the gym during the day.” Ethan doesn’t know why he’s bothering. He can basically see the excuses forming in Mark’s brain as he talks. 

“Alex doesn’t have time during the day. Our videos really boosted his place, you know.” 

Ethan just doesn’t respond. He turns back to the tv and unmutes. He’s not even angry anymore. He’s just sad, now. He misses his husband. His best friend. Mark used to literally postpone streams on a busy day so they’d have time to sit and watch a movie together. Now? It’s like he’d rather be doing anything but be here. 

It’s all of Ethan’s anxieties come to life. Mark, his idol turned partner, going for him? Ethan? Seven years younger Ethan? Regular boy Ethan who can barely take a compliment he has such little confidence? 

Mark loving him always felt impossible, but he eventually got over it, as Mark proved in every way he could how real his feelings are. 

Maybe he’s just realising he was wrong. Maybe he’s realising he never had those feelings for Ethan. Maybe maybe maybe. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to arrange a day time meeting tonight. See if he can fit me in his schedule.” Mark says, still here apparently. 

Ethan still doesn’t respond, and eventually he hears a sigh and the door closing behind him. 

Once he’s alone, he shuts off the tv and curls up into a ball on the couch. A few months ago, Mark never would’ve left him alone, knowing he’s sad. 

-

Ethan hasn’t moved a single bit when the door opens again. It must’ve been a few hours. It’s pitch black, now. No more sunset filtering through the blinds. 

Mark frowns when he sees him, setting down his gym back like he might come over but then he just stops at the top of the two stairs that separate the kitchen and living room. 

“Do you still want a kid?” Ethan blurts, closing his eyes as to not see the man’s reaction. 

“Ethan..”

“Just answer the question.” Ethan keeps his eyes closed even as he hears Mark step into the room and up to the couch. 

“I-I mean..if..” Mark trails off, but it’s answer enough. Ethan can’t help it now. He starts to cry, covering his face with his hands as if that’ll hide his tears. 

He feels Mark’s hand settle on his back, the man crouching down in front of the couch. 

“Do you want a divorce? Just fuckin’ tell me so we can stop being like this.” Ethan sits up as he speaks, slapping Mark’s hand away. The man looks surprised, as if they’ve been fine. As if this isn’t what he expected after weeks upon weeks of hesitancy. 

“No! No, I don’t. Do you?” 

“What do you mean you don’t? You’re fine with barely speaking to each other, arguing about your gym time, and not touching each other for weeks, but a divorce is a no?” 

Mark looks genuinely confused. It’s fucking annoying. Ethan kind of wants to slap him, but he’s never been violent. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Mark looks down at his hands, squeezing them into fists.

“Maybe I could tell you if we just talked once in a while.” Ethan replies bitterly. 

Mark stands up and sits next to him, frowning at his lap. 

“I just feel empty sometimes. I don’t know how to explain it. I just don’t feel like myself. I keep pulling away because I don’t want it to affect you. I don’t want you to feel sad but I see that’s exactly what’s happened.” 

“Just tell me if you’re cheating. You don’t have to lie.” 

Mark turns on the couch, eyebrows furrowed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. 

“I’m not cheating on you, Ethan. I just need some time. To come back, I guess.” 

“You want to take a break?” 

“No, no, I just want you to accept that I’m fucked right now. I’ll come back for sure. I just need..help.” 

Ethan looks at him, heart aching for him despite his anger. It’s hard to stay mad when Mark’s eyes are glossing, his hands shaky in his lap. 

“I can get you help. It’s okay to need help.” 

Mark exhales shakily and wipes at his eyes. They’re both a mess. Ethan pulls him into a hug and they cry together for a bit, cuddled on the couch. 

“I love you. I’m sorry I led you to think otherwise.” Mark murmurs after a bit, fingers combing through Ethan’s hair. The boy sighs, blissful in his partners arms again. He hadn’t realised how lonely he’s felt lately, despite living in the same house. 

“I’m sorry too. I never considered that working out with Alex might be giving you some happiness. Just..I’m worried. There’s a killer.” 

Mark presses a kiss to the top of his head. He smells like home. 

“I’ll stop going so much. Every other day instead? I can message you, too. When I get there and when I’m headed home. So you know I’m safe.” 

“Sounds perfect.” Ethan sighs, pressing a kiss to Mark’s collarbone, he shuts his eyes. He missed this. Sitting together. Cuddled so close. It’s nice. 

-

“For the first time since the owl surfaced, a photo has been confirmed from downtown cctv. The serial killer is a male, unknown age or ethnicity, dressed in all black. He wears some sort of ski mask and strangles his victims with wire..” the photo is rather blurry, but the outline of the killer is clear. 

Ethan pulls his knees to his chest and chews on his lip anxiously. He checks his phone again, but it’s only been 11 minutes since Mark sent his “on my way home” text. He should be arriving any second, but Ethan can’t help but worry anyway. He has to turn off the news and start to pace, head swirling. The tv is off, but he can still see the outline of the hooded killer, wire glinting in the light as he steps up behind a man—

The door opens. Ethan steps briskly up to the foyer, where Mark is toeing off his shoes. He pauses his movements when he sees the boy, cheeks red and hands shaky. 

“What’s—oh, Ethan.” Mark catches him easily, arms wrapping around him. Ethan takes deep breaths as they hug, feeling Mark against him. Warm. Alive. 

“Sorry. Was watching the news and got worried.” The boy explains, pulling away and laughing dryly. Mark smiles, hanging his coat and pressing a hello kiss to his lips. 

“Definitely okay. I’m gonna shower then you wanna watch a movie? Or just go right to bed?” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Right to bed sounds good. Hurry up.” Ethan giggles as Mark peels off his shirt, kissing him once more. He’s pretty toned, an obvious effect of his working out. 

“Give me two minutes.” Mark says, grinning, and turns away to head for the shower, hands already working on his belt. 

Ethan watches him go, but his smile quickly fades when his eyes fall over Mark’s back. There, near his shoulder blade, three scratch marks. 

Scratch marks on a man’s back is pretty hard to excuse away. Scratching himself, sure, but the angle is all wrong. It’s the angle of someone lying underneath him. Someone who might be writhing in pleasure. Someone Mark is leaving to ‘work out’ with, perhaps? 

Ethan’s still frozen in shock when the shower turns on down the hall. His stomach is turning, and he feels sick. 

Finally, he forces his legs to move, stepping up to the counter where Mark emptied his pockets of his phone, wallet, and keys. Picking up his phone, Ethan types in Chica’s birthday to unlock the phone. Messages. 

He has to scroll to find Alex. The last message to the man was ‘great, see you then’ from three months ago. 

Three months. 

Ethan hears Mark step into the room after his shower but he lies as still as he can, breathing deeply. 

“Ethan, you awake?” Mark asks in a quiet murmur. Ethan doesn’t reply, keeping his eyes closed. Eventually, Mark lies down, presses a kiss to Ethan’s temple, then falls asleep next to him. 

Ethan doesn’t sleep for a long time. 

-

“Hey, didn’t think you’d be up.” Mark says, stepping into the kitchen, pulling on his coat. It’s nearing 7. 

“Fell asleep early last night.” Ethan replies, pretending he’s distracted by his phone. He’s just staring at his contact list dazedly. 

“Well I have that meeting with Ben. I’ll be back in like an hour. We can meet somewhere for lunch?” 

“Sounds great.” Ethan can’t look at him. He tried to tilt his voice to sound excited but it’s hard. 

“Alright. Be back soon, love ya.” Mark thankfully doesn’t wait for a reply and leaves the house humming a random tune. 

As soon as his car has turned at the end of the road, Ethan taps call on Alex’s number. 

“Ethan! What’s up?” Alex answers on the third ring, sounding pleasantly surprised. 

“Hey. I was just calling to ask about Mark. He’s been working out a lot lately and lost his phone. Did he leave it there?” 

“Uhh, I can check, but I haven’t seen him around in a few months. Maybe he’s coming in when I have an appointment?” 

“Oh never mind! I just remembered he was going to the gym that’s a bit closer, sorry. Hey I gotta go, Chica’s whining.” Ethan hangs up, not waiting for a reply. He leans back against the counter, stomach swirling. He’d hoped maybe Mark and Alex weren’t texting their plans. He’d hoped they just had a schedule. Deep down, it’s still not that much of a surprise. 

Mark’s been going somewhere else every night. Somewhere where he’d obtain scratches on his back. 

-

He can only sit still for ten minutes before he gives in. He stands and starts to search everything. Mark’s dresser, the cabinet in the toilet, his coat pockets. Anything that might tell Ethan the truth about where his partners been. 

Eventually, he finds himself in the garage, where he spots Mark’s gym bag tucked between the washer and dryer. It’s a weirdly hidden spot. Somewhere he wouldn’t look unless he was specifically snooping. 

Ethan pulls the bag out and drops to his knees, unzipping the bag. There’s bundles of clothing, as expected. Mark almost always comes home freshly showered after working out. The clothes smell clean. They’re all black. 

Ethan digs through the clothes, pulling them out. There’s a few pairs of pants and hoodies. Also weirdly, a mask with a hole in it for the eyes. A balaclava. 

Ethan holds the balaclava in his hands as he lifts up a hoodie from the bottom of the bag. It’s heavy. Shaking the hoodie, something shiny falls out of the thick hoodie. 

Ethan’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, then, he gasps. Dropping the things in his hands, he backs away from the bag altogether, heart beginning to race, the colour draining from his face. 

Suddenly, it all makes sense. The drop of blood he’d forgotten to ask about. The sneaking out. The distancing. The scratches on his back. The uninterest in sex. The lies. His heart fights against it, unable to accept this truth. The man he loves, his best friend. He wants to fight it, not believe it, but there’s no opposing evidence. His heart fights it, but his head knows what’s true. 

“Ethan? You home? The meeting let out early!” Mark’s voice is muffled through the walls separating them. The front door shuts in the distance. Ethan stands up shakily, fight or flight mode instinctual. 

He looks around the garage, finding the nearest weapon, a lug wrench sat on the tool table a few feet away. Ethan lifts it up, hands shaking like mad. He waits for his husband to walk through the door, and looks back down at the bag, trying to control his breathing. With his free hand, he dials the police. 

Still sat lopsided on top of the pile of black clothing, the balaclava and the heavy spool of wire. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me in the comments lmao. I’ve wanted to do a dark Mark fic for a while now but with the crankiplier fic generator project I haven’t had time for it but thanks to the virus I got nothing but time now haha.
> 
> Considering doing a sequel but i dont know yet ;)


End file.
